COVER -> American Dreams
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Actually, she was a real live wire. You know the kind of gal who lit up a room when she walked in. She always asked how you were and you knew she wasn't just being polite. She really cared to know. And, you told her. My back hurts, our cat had kittens, my mother finally passed on.
She always said the right thing. She'd look you straightin the eyes, and you knew she heard and understood every word you said. She had those kind of eyes, real green eyes, eyes that saw right through you from across the room.
Irene, my sister, didn't like her but, 'Renie was full of secrets. She said Anna made her nervous with her knowing ways.
If you were hiding anything, Anna sensed it. She'd give you one or two word clues, and you knew that she could read what was on your mind; you didn't need to say anything out loud. Without really thinking much about it, you went ahead and told her what was bothering you. I felt safe with Anna. I trusted her and in the twenty-six years I have known her, I never heard her gossip or say an unkind word about anyone, even that rat-bastard brother of hers.
Now Bob was cut out of a different bolt all together. Crude and mean, he married my sister's stupid girlfriend Mary. She divorced him after two years and three kids. He took off for parts unknown. Good riddance to bad trash.
Then one day, maybe five or six years ago, Anna just stopped talking.
Just like that, one minute she was full of sunshine and the next, nothing. I'm still not sure what happened.
That first year, I'd see her at the gas station or at the grocery store and say, "Hi Anna, how's it going." The corners of her mouth would barely turn up. I'd see a little quivering sliver of a smile, just enough to let me know she'd heard me. Then she'd drop her head and her long red hair would cover her face and she'd hurry away.
I lost count of the times I started to run after her and ask her what was wrong. But, I was never as good as she at being straight with people.
It didn't take long, maybe just a few months went by, it could have been a year, and then no one saw or heard from her at all.
Anna lived outside of town up on top of Old Baldy, where we used to sled when we were kids. Her grandma owned all the land for miles around and like her mother before her, she managed the farm alone.
Mrs. Currie's husband, Anna's grandfather, was a logger and a drinker. He'd go to the Upper Peninsula in March and wouldn't come back until just before Christmas when the snow would be too deep to pull out the trees. I think he kept a native girl up there at camp, most men did. I always had the feeling that the Holidays weren't all that jolly at Anna's and Mrs. Currie's.
After she died, Mr. Currie had died years before crushed under a tree in the woods near Marquette, Anna and Bob inherited their grandmother's land. I think that's about the time her brother left his wife and kids. Anna mortgaged her place and bought out his share. He took the money and ran.
Anna was only six years older than I. She was a senior at the high school when I entered middle school. And, truth be told, I thought she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was so smart and so nice. She'd smack me on the arm at the drinking fountain and tell me I was growing up swell. Made my day. Even when she had graduated and went away to college in Ann Arbor, for years after I would linger at that same spot and imagine I'd hear her laughing and see her coming down the hall.
Every woman I've ever met since, I'd look for something in her that would remind me of Anna. She has Anna's mouth, she has Anna's nose, boy, Anna would like her. But, no one really ever came close.
Marge, the village post mistress, told me years ago that Anna had stopped paying for her box and had her mail delivered down at the end of the two track. For four years now, I drive by her place at least once a week and check to make sure she's picked up her mail. What can I say, I just wanted to make sure she was O.K.
Last Thursday, I drove past and saw her walking down the lane. At first, I didn't realize she was there. She was looking at the ground, her head covered by the hood of her orange sweatshirt, she sort of blended in with the fallen Maple leaves. But, when she looked up and I saw her emerald eyes, there was no mistaking this woman for anyone other than Anna.
I knew that whether she had anything to say to me, I had something to say to her. I turned off my truck and got out. She actually spoke first, her voice small and soft, "Hi. I've seen you before from up top. I wondered if you'd stay long enough to be here when I came down."
"I didn't want to bother you, I just check up on you sometimes to see if you are alright." I said.
She turned and brushed one loose curl aside, a lone lock of crimson that had slipped out from under cover, she looked me straight in the eyes like she used to and said, "I'm getting better."
I think I'll take the long way home, I need to do some thinking. Tomorrow, I'll go see Anna again. Maybe we'll take a walk up the lane to her house, maybe we'll talk, maybe we won't.